


Ice and Fire and Family

by LAStoryWriterAlex



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Drama, Fluff, Possible smut, Post Season 7, jonerys baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-16 14:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12344106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LAStoryWriterAlex/pseuds/LAStoryWriterAlex
Summary: This is eventually (I think) going to be part of something much larger. Just my predictions of Season 8/what I'd like to happen. This work will include fan theories that may or may not be true and may or may not be confirmed in Season 8.





	1. Jaime I

“Your Grace, might I have a word?” Jaime asked quietly, but making sure to emphasize her title so she might agree. Jon Snow looked back at the two of them, an unreadable expression on his face. But when Daenerys nodded, he exited the great hall with his sisters and Brienne.

“Your Grace?” Daenerys repeated, eyebrow raised. “I thought I was just a would-be usurper to you and your sister.” Jaime swallowed hard. He’d done them a great favor overseeing the construction of the scorpion weapon so they might have a chance against the undead dragon. And Sansa at least, had expressed her gratefulness that he was with them. But Daenerys was different. Yes, he’d wronged the Starks many times over. Had attempted to kill one of them. But the crimes he committed against the Targaryen family were far worse. He wasn’t sure where to begin.

“Perhaps we should sit back down,” the Dragon Queen suggested softly, gesturing to the two chairs beside them. Jaime took his seat gratefully and was surprised when she poured him a horn of ale. He noticed curiously that she only drank water herself, but wasn’t at all about to ask why. If she had poisoned the ale, he well enough deserved it.

He took a tentative sip and waited. It tasted fine. Perhaps she wouldn’t kill him after all. “Your Grace...I’m not quite sure where to start,” Jaime began weakly. Daenerys sighed, watching him.

“Ser Jaime--” It almost tore him apart that she had the decency to call him _Ser Jaime_ , especially after he had killed her father and had attempted to kill her as well. It was much more respect than he deserved and she knew that, but she paid it to him anyway. Tyrion had been right all along. She would make a wonderful queen. “I know my father was an evil man,” Daenerys went on and Jaime could feel his throat tighten. “I know what he did. What he would have done, had you not killed him. If you’re looking for forgiveness--”

“No,” Jaime interrupted her. “No, that’s not...you don’t know--”

“I know the Mad King was indeed--”

“No. Stop. Listen to me…” He struggled for words but she nodded. “I don’t have a single regret about murdering your father. He was mad and right before I killed him, he’d ordered his pyromancer to burn the entirety of King’s Landing down with wildfire.” Daenerys pursed her lips, her jaw tight. “But you don’t need to know any of that. It doesn’t matter. What did matter though, were the vows I forsook after your father let out his last breath.” She gave him a questioning look and Jaime took a gulp of ale before he continued. This was the horrible part.

“Your brother Rhaegar was one of my heroes. I looked up to him. He was one of the finest men I ever knew and an even better swordsman. When he left for the Battle of the Trident, I begged him to take me with him. Sometimes I still wonder if I’d been there, would Robert Baratheon have been able to kill him. I’ll never know but the thought still haunts me all the same.”

Another gulp of ale and Daenerys leaned in, hanging on his words now. “Rhaegar had left me in King’s Landing because he wanted me to protect his family. His family meaning your mother, your brother, Elia and the children. I didn’t. My father’s henchman, Gregor Clegane, butchered Rhaegar’s children and I didn’t do a thing to stop it happening. While my father’s dogs sacked the city, pillaging and raping and murdering, I was busy shoving my sword in your father’s back. And then when I found out Elia and her children were dead, I did nothing to protect you and Viserys. I should have. I should have gone to Dragonstone with your mother, I should have helped you all escape, I should have…” Jaime trailed off, unexpected tears coming to his eyes. He turned toward the fire, not able to bear looking at her anymore. He’d seen the children’s bodies. And he wanted to scream when Robert Baratheon pardoned The Mountain for what he’d done. But Jaime had been given a similar pardon at the same time for killing Aerys. There wasn’t much he could have done after the fact.

Jaime took another sip of ale, staring into the flames. He hadn’t been there as his sister blew up the Great Sept of Baelor. But he’d seen the rubble. The ruin. Olenna Tyrell had been right. Cersei would be the end of him. Or at least, she would have been. Now was his chance to honor Rhaegar’s memory and the trust the prince had put in him all those years ago. Daenerys was still alive and oddly she might just be the one to save them all. And just now, she placed her hand lightly over his, strongly reminding him of Sansa’s gesture earlier. He had to protect them. The Starks and the Targaryens. None of them deserved everything that had happened to their families.

He looked to her finally and something in her expression...it reminded him strongly of her eldest brother. His goodness. His kindness. A single tear slipped down her cheek. Was he worth it? He still wasn’t sure yet. But he damned well would try to be.

“Your Grace...I call you _Your Grace_ because you are the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I can see now what my sister is, what she’s always been just as I saw what your father was. You aren’t an ounce like him. You remind me of your brother, Rhaegar. And unlike with Rhaegar, I intend to protect and defend you, as I should have done for the rest of your family. As your brother had asked me to.”

“Well, I’m not on the Iron Throne yet,” Daenerys laughed, giving his hand a final squeeze and then sitting back in her chair. “But if we do survive this winter and somehow also defeat your sister…” she paused and slid her hand over her belly absentmindedly, smoothing out her dress. “If all goes well...I want you to serve in my Queensguard. If you’d like to, that is. But I’m offering so it’s yours for the taking.” She stood then and Jaime stood with her, unsure of what to say to such an honor.

“Think about it. Goodnight Ser Jaime.” She smoothed her dress again but this time Jaime caught it. It was so obvious, he didn’t know how he couldn’t have seen it sooner. And it made him want to protect her even more.

“Does Lord Snow know?” Jaime asked her as she retreated toward the door. Daenerys stopped, turning slowly to face him. He moved his eyes from her face to her belly and back again so she wouldn’t misinterpret his meaning.

“Not yet,” Daenerys breathed, touching her stomach again.

“You still intend to ride into battle on that dragon of yours?” Jaime asked, but really he knew her answer.

“Well I certainly wouldn’t want to sit back knitting by the fire,” she told him defensively, straightening her back.

“I wouldn’t expect you would. But just...consider not. You’re the last Targaryen. If you’re gone, you’re whole house, you’re whole family…”

“I know.” She sighed. “But this is my home too. My kingdom. And I have to defend it.”

“Then I’ll be right there by your side, defending you,” Jaime told her. She smiled and nodded in farewell, then left.


	2. Daenerys I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys learns her family is bigger than she once thought.

Daenerys smiled to herself as she made her way to her and Jon’s private chambers. Before he had died, Barristan Selmy had told Daenerys of her brother Rhaegar and his goodness. How he used to stroll the streets of King’s Landing and sing for the people. She never got the chance to ask Ser Barristan of more stories of her brother. But as she walked from her conversation with Jaime, she vowed to ask him all about her Rhaegar.

However, before Dany could finish processing how happy her odd conversation with Ser Jaime had made her, she was ambushed by the one person in Winterfell she dreaded seeing. 

“Samwell,” she said, her voice uneven. “I’ve been meaning to--” 

“If you’ll follow me Your Grace,” Samwell started but she needed to get this out. It had been eating at her ever since Jon told her all the stories of his brother’s in the Night’s Watch and how his best friend had the surname  _ Tarly. _

“Sam, we need to talk. I know we’re at war and the army of the dead march on us as we speak, but I’d like to explain what happened to your father and--” but Sam cut her off, his face pained, but his words urgent. 

“There’s time enough for that later. Right now, Bran Stark and I have something we need to share with you and Jon and his sisters. An important family matter,” he told her in his painfully sweet voice, just as they heard footfalls coming down the hallway.

“Everything alright?” Ser Jaime asked, approaching the both of them, left hand habitually resting on the pommel of his sword. 

“I don’t understand. If it’s a family matter, why do you want me there as well?” Dany asked Sam. She knew Jon had already told his sisters of their relationship but she wouldn’t at all go so far as to assume they thought of her as family yet. They’d only met hours before and none of them, save now for Missandei and Ser Jaime, knew that she was pregnant. A fact she intended to keep to herself for as long as possible. She nervously ran her hand over her belly again and out of the corner of her eye, saw Ser Jaime give her a quick glance. 

“Because it has to do with your brother Rhaegar.”

“Rhaegar?” Jaime asked stealing another glance at Dany. They had  _ just _ been speaking about him. It seemed too coincidental. 

“Lead the way Sam,” Dany nodded to him. 

“Ser Jaime,” Sam looked to him next. “Bran said you are to be there as well. I believe Lord Tyrion is already waiting with the others. He has something he needs to share with you also.” Dany and Ser Jaime exchanged odd looks. What in seven hells was going on?

When they entered the Winterfell library - where Sam and Bran had been spending most of the last few days, save being down at the weirwood tree - Sansa, Arya, Jon, Tyrion, and Bran were already waiting for them. Knowing now it didn’t matter, Dany took her place by Jon’s side and slid her hand in his. It was hard not to notice the way everyone stole a glance at them but they all had small smiles on their faces, save for Tyrion. Dany knew her Hand didn’t approve but there was nothing he could do about it now. She was already carrying Jon’s child. Slowly, she rubbed her thumb over Jon’s knuckles.

Sam closed the door and took a deep, steadying breath. Bran nodded at him. “When I was at the Citadel,” he began, “I was tasked with transcribing some old documents - books, diaries, raven scrolls. And one of the documents, Gilly actually found it, was a diary of High Septon Maynard.” 

“Gods, not that boring old twat,” Ser Jaime chuckled. Tyrion smirked. Sam cut his eyes at Jaime but quickly shook off his irritation and turned to Bran.

“The story of Robert’s Rebellion that we all grew up with,” Bran nodded to his siblings, “the story King Robert told everyone, the story father told all of us, was that Rhaegar Targaryen had kidnapped our aunt Lyanna and raped her--”

“Rhaegar would never do that,” Dany cut him off unexpectedly. The words had flown from her mouth so quickly, she didn’t have time to follow up with anything to support her defense. But still, Rhaegar was her brother and she wouldn’t hear of anyone speaking ill of him. Everyone she met had always told her how decent and honorable he was. He wasn’t a rapist. 

“And how would you know, you weren’t there,” Sansa told her, her voice much too icy for Dany’s taste. 

“No, but I was,” Jaime defended. “Rhaegar made a lot of mistakes that year of Robert’s Rebellion but the prince was an honorable man. Would have been a great king, had he lived.” He gave Dany a little nod of acknowledgement. Sansa wasn’t quite sure what to make of Jaime’s admission but it had silenced her at least. 

“What do you mean  _ the story we grew up with _ , Bran,” Jon cut in, wanting to get everyone back on track. “Are you saying Rhaegar didn’t kidnap our aunt Lyanna?” Sam’s brow furrowed, concern writ all over his face. Dany wondered what it meant.

“No he didn’t,” Bran answered. “She ran away with him. They were very much in love.”  
“So all this time, father lied to us about King Robert because he was his best friend. Or did he even know our aunt Lyanna had gone willingly?” Jon pressed. Dany knew he was fishing because he always thought of his father as one of the most honorable men in the Seven Kingdoms. If he had known about Robert’s lie, he would be tainted in Jon’s eyes. 

“Father didn’t know until later,” Bran admitted, looking to Sam to continue the next part of the story.

“But Lyanna and Rhaegar didn’t just have an affair,” Sam looked around the room. “They were so in love actually, that Rhaegar had the high septon annul his marriage to Elia and marry him and Lyanna in a secret ceremony in Dorne.” 

“You’re sure?” Arya asked stunned. As were they all. Dany only knew of Robert’s Rebellion what her brother Viserys had told her. This didn’t change much, but at the same time, it meant everything. Jon squeezed her hand and when she looked up at him his expression was somewhere between confusion and happiness. If his aunt and her brother had been married, it meant their families were connected. 

“It’s what Septon Maynard wrote in his private diary and Bran was able to see their wedding in a vision,” Sam told Arya.

“I don’t understand though,” Arya went on. “What reason would father have to lie to us? I mean, Robert was king when the rebellion was over but why would father defend him and keep up such a horrible story?”

Sam and Bran exchanged glances. It was Bran’s turn to explain. “Because Lyanna made him promise. And the one thing father cared about more than his own honor or the truth, was his family. Lyanna didn’t die of a fever. She died giving birth.”

“They had a child?” Tyrion exclaimed disbelieving. Dany took in a shaky breath as well. Her brother had another child. Another child who would be her family as well. Was it possible? Had the child survived? Was she not alone in this world after all?

“Arthur Dayne,” Jaime exclaimed and every eye went to him. He looked to Dany, piecing something together in his mind. “I had always wondered why...why Rhaegar didn’t have him accompany him to the Battle of the Trident. Why he’d made his best swordsman and best friend sit out the battle. It wasn’t just to keep Lyanna from Robert. Robert wouldn’t have harmed her if he found her. It was to protect you.” Jaime nodded to Dany.  _ Me?,  _ Dany thought. “It makes sense why you’re so much like him.”

“What?” Sam gave Jaime a confused look and seemed about to say something when Jon pulled her closer. 

“You’re a Stark?” Jon said slowly, a bewildered but not unpleasant expression crossing his face. He let go of her hand and slipped a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Dany had never seen Jon look at her the way he looked at her now. It was as if he had fallen even more in love with her. He smiled down at her, almost proudly. But could it be true? Was she half Stark? Dany’s throat caught and she couldn’t speak but Jon captured her hand again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“You’re our cousin,” Sansa exclaimed.  _ Cousins _ .

“A Targaryen and a Stark,” Jaime voiced, looking somewhere between as if impressed.

“A dragon and a wolf,” Arya added.  _ A dragon and a wolf _ .  _ Like our child _ , Dany thought, though he would be more wolf than dragon it appeared. Could this all really be true? Was the family she had always hoped for standing in this very room? 

“No,” Samwell interrupted, shaking his head. “You’re not Rhaegar’s child, Your Grace.” Dany shook her head as well, so completely confused. She looked to Ser Jaime who shrugged, clearly just as caught off guard as she was. Dany huffed, her throat still tight. Why didn’t he say something sooner? For a moment, just a sweet brief moment, Dany had dared to hope.

“No,” Bran added. Then he looked at Jon, his eyes gaining a meaningful warmth they hadn’t ever had in the short time Dany had known him. “Lyanna gave birth to a boy.” 

“Ohh,” Dany let out a shuddering breath, the tears coming to her eyes as she turned to Jon again. The rest of the room looked to Bran, still trying to catch up but she knew, could feel it. He had been here, all this time. The only family she had left in the whole world, and he was right in front of her. 

Jon looked between Dany and Bran, brow furrowed, not understanding at all what was happening. But to Dany, it all made sense.  _ He _ was the dragon and the wolf.  _ The dragons! _ The day on Dragonstone, Drogon, everything. Tears spilled out of her eyes as she looked at him, noticing for the first time his nose and lips. They were Viserys’s nose and lips. The must have been Rhaegar’s as well. She wasn’t the last Targaryen anymore. She wasn’t alone in the world. And against all odds, despite their two incredibly different journeys, they had found each other.

“Father promised Lyanna he would protect you. They both knew if Robert found out, he would want you dead, like Rhaegar’s other children.” Dany took notice of Jon’s sudden panting breaths, the tears pooling in his eyes. “She named you as well but he couldn’t call you by your true name - Aegon Targaryen.” Jon shuddered, his mouth hanging open. For the brief moment Dany thought she was half Stark, it had felt odd, to say the least. But for Jon, this meant something else entirely. He wasn’t a bastard anymore. He never had been. And Ned Stark, the man he looked up to most in the world, was not his father.

“It wouldn’t have worked, you see,” Sam explained. “He wouldn’t even have been able to call you Aegon Snow. Would’ve looked odd for him to call his bastard son after a Targaryen when he’d just helped in defeating them.”

“So he named you after Jon Arryn, a man he considered like a father to him, as he knew he would need to be to you,” Bran went on but Dany wasn’t sure Jon heard a word of it. His grip on her hand had become painfully tight as he continued to gulp air into his lungs. “He wanted to protect you so much, he wouldn’t even tell our mother your true identity, that you weren’t his bastard and he had adopted his sister’s son.”

“Jon,” Dany whispered, rubbing a hand over his heart. He still hadn’t spoken and it was beginning to concern her. “Jon are you alright?” He looked down at her, his eyes meeting hers, but she knew he wasn’t seeing her. His other hand gripped the one over his heart and he collapsed into the chair behind him. Dany followed, kneeling in front of him, now completely worried.

“That would make  _ you _ our cousin,” Sansa said slowly. Arya shot her sister a look that could have killed if she possessed such a power but Dany tried to ignore them.

“It means a lot more than that,” Tyrion chimed in, making Dany finally look up from Jon, who’s face was now in his hands, to her Hand. She knew where Tyrion was going with this and it was absolutely not the time for a discussion about the line of succession. Did he really not know what was going through Jon’s mind right now? The man he loved as his father was not really his father. Jon wasn’t thinking at all about crowns and thrones and being the heir, Dany knew.

But it was Ser Jaime, not Tyrion, who was the one to actually say the words. “You’re the heir to the Iron Throne,” he half whispered. “You’re our true King.” Sansa and Arya gasped as they clearly hadn’t thought of the implications. Jon’s shoulders shuddered but he didn’t look up. But oddly, Bran’s only focus was on Ser Jaime.

“He’s more to you than just your king, Ser Jaime,” Bran told him, and even Sam looked a little surprised. Jon finally lifted his head up, still wearing a pained expression but something in Bran’s tone made him curious in spite of himself. “He’s your nephew.”

“What?” Jon got out, speaking for the first time in several minutes, and everyone else in the room echoed a similar sentiment. 

Bran looked to the two Lannister brothers knowingly. “When he was younger, Aerys Targaryen was quite taken with Joanna Lannister, did you know?” Dany felt her jaw clench, Jon grabbed for her hand again, and Jaime’s hand slipped from the pommel of his sword. “He never let her go, not really. Not even after she was wed to her cousin Tywin. No one knew, except for Joanna, that you and Cersei were Aerys’ children and not her husband’s. That makes Jon your nephew. And Daenerys, your half sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so obviously the fan theory this work is based off of is that Cersei and Jaime Lannister are actually the bastard twins of Aerys II and Joanna Lannister...no Tyrion Targaryen here. I am in love with this theory and whether or not it's true, I think it's really fun to write. Hope you guys like!


	3. Jon I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon soaks in the reality of who he is and learns another shocking truth along the way.

The library was completely silent. Not even the ever so chatty Tyrion had anything to say now. Ser Jaime took the seat opposite Jon in front of the fire and the two exchanged a look, silently agreeing, _fuck_. All his life Jon had wanted to know the identity of his mother. Wanted to know if she was alive or dead, if she loved him or if she didn’t care when Ned rode north to take him back to Winterfell. Now he knew the truth but he didn’t feel any better for it. Didn’t get that feeling of completeness he thought he lacked. If anything, now he felt more lost than ever. Lord Eddard Stark, the man he looked up to most and admired in this world, tried to emulate and tried to make proud, was not his father.

As his breathing returned to normal, Jon watched Dany settle herself on the floor between his knees, sitting cross legged, her head resting against him. Absentmindedly he ran his fingers through her hair, glad she had forgone her braids since their departure from White Harbor. She felt warm against him. And Jon thought her presence might have been the only thing holding him in that chair in that moment.  

_Lyanna_. His mother’s name was Lyanna.

He had seen her statue in the crypts half a hundred times. He had always felt odd about the crypts, dreamt of them sometimes. In his dreams he would stand before the door leading down to them, have a feeling like he needed to go into the crypts, but he was always afraid of what he would find in them. Now he knew what was in the crypts. His mother.

Jon heaved a heavy sigh and Dany automatically brought her hand up to his knee for him to take, his hand tingling at the contact as it always did. He had felt it the first time he ever laid eyes on her, in the throne room on Dragonstone. Though their words had been harsh, their stances defensive, their egos unbending, he knew instinctively their silly impasse wouldn’t last. Knew she was going to be something much more to him. For the brief few moments everyone had thought Dany was Rhaegar and Lyanna’s child, he thought that had explained the connection. But now he knew. They were both blood of the dragon.

Jon mouth popped open suddenly and he blinked, thinking back to the day on Dragonstone when she had returned from battle. He had known it wasn’t entirely safe being out there on the cliffs alone, searching the horizon for a hint of black wings, the other two dragons circling nearby. But even as Jon had stood motionless as Drogon rushed him, snout inching closer, teeth bared, Jon felt the dragon wouldn’t harm him. It must have known. It must have sensed that whatever Dany was, Jon was the same.

Just then a wolf howled outside making Jon shudder. _Wolves_ . _Dragons_ . Jon considered his bond with Ghost, something he most definitely got from the Stark side of his heritage. But he knew, even before tonight, that there must have been something else there. Some mysterious part of himself that made up the other half of who he was. _You may not have my name, but you have my blood_ , his father had once told him. Only just now did Jon realize, Ned hadn’t said, _You may not have my name, but you are my son_. Because he wasn’t Ned’s son.

Jon thought again of his dreams of the crypts. How in some of them the Kings of Winter would rise from their places of rest and tell him he didn’t belong there. The crypts were a place for Starks, and Jon didn’t have the Stark name. He thought he was a Snow. Bastard of the north. But no, of course that would have been too simple. He wasn’t a Stark. He wasn’t a Snow. He was a _Targaryen_.

As Jon considered the name, the fingers of his free hand did what they always did when he was feeling insecure about something. They brushed over the crescent shaped scar over his heart. He had died and returned from the dead. Had he never been brought back, he would never have found out the truth. _Was it worth it?_

Jon finally looked up from Daenerys and around the room. Sam hovered nervously next to Bran as if not quite sure whether he should stay or leave. Tyrion, Sansa, and Arya, looked as if they all wanted to say so much but were restraining themselves for Jon’s and Jaime’s sake. And Bran was simply focused on the flames of the fireplace again, apparently lost in thought.

“It’s late. I think I’m going to return to Gilly and little Sam. Bran, shall I escort you back to your room?” Sam asked him.

“Thank you Samwell,” Bran said simply and the rest watched as the two of them quit the room.

Several more minutes passed. Sansa, and Arya sat at one of the tables Sam had littered with books and old scrolls from the Citadel. But Tyrion had the right idea. He left the room briefly and when he returned he had two horns and flagon of ale in hand. He filled both cups and took a long draft from one before passing them around the room. Everyone drank silently, save for Dany who simply shook her head when Jon handed it down to her. She hadn’t said much more than Jon had all evening. He hoped she wasn’t angry with him. _Iron Throne_ . _Rightful Heir_. It was all bullshit to Jon. He didn’t care about any of it. She was the queen he chose. He wanted to tell her as much but thought this wasn’t the time at all to bring it up.

Ser Jaime finally broke the silence, his voice low, as if he were almost speaking to himself. “I killed him,” he breathed. Everyone looked to him but he only stared into the fire.

“Don’t,” Dany whispered but Jaime didn’t respond. Jon knew what the Mad King had done. The terror he had inflicted during his reign. How he had burned his grandfather and uncle alive. He knew Ser Jaime hadn’t killed Aerys to avenge the Stark men. But Jon still didn’t think him in the wrong for it. And Aerys being Ser Jaime’s true father shouldn’t have changed anything. Killing Aerys before he could burn down the entire country was just.

Tyrion refilled one of the horns of ale and carried it to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. “As someone who killed his own father, knowing it was my own father, let me tell you it’s not the absolute worst feeling in the world. You may hate yourself for a little while. Maybe a long while. But I don’t think anyone here blames you for what you did.”

“Kingslayer brothers,” Jaime murmured and Tyrion stiffened. “When Joffrey died you joked we’d have been the kingslayer brothers. Almost got it right, didn’t you? _Kin-slayer_ now…” He trailed off and Jon felt for him. At least he hadn’t unwittingly killed one of his own blood. He supposed that could have been the only thing to make this more painful and confusing.

Jaime smirked then and looked to Jon. “You’re now trueborn, rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. And I’m a bastard.” Jon clenched his fists and jaw at this. He didn’t want to be a king. Not King in the North, not King of the Seven Kingdoms. He just wanted to face the fight ahead and protect his people. Why couldn’t anyone see that that was what was important here? “Is that divine justice or divine irony?” Ser Jaime asked.

“Enough,” Sansa spoke, surprising everyone. She looked to Jon. “It doesn’t matter who married who or who bedded who to create you. You are the son of Eddard Stark, you always have been. You will always be a Stark.” She was on her feet now and turned her gaze to Ser Jaime next. “And you, whatever other people may think of you Ser Jaime, we all know you’re an honorable man. Tywin Lannister is dead. Your mother is dead. Aerys Targaryen is dead.” She looked at the room as a whole now. “Rhaegar’s dead. Lyanna is dead. Our mother, dead. Robb, Rickon, and father. Robert Baratheon. Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella. They’re all dead! And we will be too if we don’t defeat the Night King and his army and they’re marching on us _right now_. Houses and names and titles. It doesn’t bloody matter anymore!” Sansa took in a deep steadying breath and sat back down as Arya passed her the ale and rubbed her back. Jon’s heart pounded as she finished her speech. It was as if she had read his thoughts exactly. Sansa was right. It didn’t matter.

“It does matter actually,” Tyrion began looking around at all of them. Sansa seemed ready to retort but he held up a hand so she might let him continue. “It matters because, whether we like it or not...it makes us all family.”

Jon’s eyes shot down to Dany as she turned to gaze up at him. Her brow creased and her lips pursed, a steely resolve crossing over her features. She gave him the slightest of nods and Jon nodded back.

“Family,” Arya agreed with Tyrion.

“Family,” Sansa followed.

“Family,” Dany and Jon said in unison. Everyone looked to Ser Jaime.

“Family.” He gave them all a single nod. Tyrion was right. Sansa was right. Nothing else mattered now. They all had to protect one another. They were all family. _And the pack survives_.

 

After all the ale had been passed around, the flagon now bone dry, everyone started to trickle out. Tyrion was first, seemingly satisfied that they wouldn’t all kill each other if he left. Sansa was next, quickly followed by Arya. Ser Jaime was last and Jon watched as Daenerys shot up from the floor when Jaime stood and briefly, albeit awkwardly, embraced him. Jaime looked taken aback for a moment, but he wrapped his good arm around her anyway, letting his eyes drift closed at the comfort of her gesture. To think, he had tried to kill her not too long ago. Now Jon couldn’t help but think it was just as fateful Jaime had ridden north to fight alongside them as it was when he had first come to court at Dragonstone. Jaime and Jon exchanged respectful nods and then only he and Dany were left in the library.  

“I know you loved him,” she whispered, crawling into his lap. Jon wrapped his arms around her but he still didn’t speak. He wasn’t quite sure what there was to say. “And he loved you. So much more than he ever could have told you. Sansa was right. Eddard Stark is still your father.” Jon pursed his lips and nodded, his thoughts still spinning.

“This might sound selfish of me but…” Dany sighed and took his face in her hands, forcing him to see her. “I’m really glad I’m not alone anymore.” Despite his heightened emotions from the whole ordeal, Jon’s brow furrowed, not quite catching her meaning. “I was never the last of my family. When Viserys died, I thought I was alone in the world. Now I have more family than I know what to do with. Well, aside from Cersei. I know what to do with her,” she chuckled. At her sweet and meaningful words, Jon smiled again. Dany ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his face and he leaned into her embrace, eyes closing briefly at her warmth.

“I always wanted to be Jon Stark,” Jon breathed after a while.

“I know,” Dany replied sadly.

“No, that’s not entirely true,” Jon mused, thinking back. “When Robb and I would sword fight when we were little, I pretended I was Aemon Targaryen, the Dragon Knight.” Dany laughed, a few tears leaking from her eyes at the same time. Jon looked at the floor, shaking his head at the coincidence of it all. Then again, maybe none of it was a coincidence. There he was and there Dany was. Just a few short years ago they had been on opposite ends of the world. _Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle_ , he had once told Bran. “Almost got it completely right, didn’t I? Targaryen. Dragons.” Jon leaned his head back against the chair taking it all in, genuinely wondering for the first time if there really was such a thing as fate.

“I should like to have seen that,” Dany told him. “You young, with your brothers.” Jon smiled again and touched her face, lightly pulling her to him, their lips meeting, caressing familiarly. “I love you,” he whispered.

Dany pulled away from him then, suddenly breathing heavy. Jon’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. The words had slipped from his mouth so naturally. Though he knew they were true, suspected she felt the same, he realized neither of them had ever said the words out loud before. But just as the panic started to rise and tingle his skin at her silence, Dany’s expression changed and something seemed to bubble up inside her. Some truth trying to escape.

Her eyes glistened as she took his hand and rested it over her belly, eyes staring deep into his. “Jon,” she breathed. Her winter coat was thick between them but there was no misinterpreting her meaning. Jon’s throat caught as he stared down at their joined hands over what he knew was the beginnings of their child. _His_ child.

“Are you sure?” he got out, feeling warm tears pool in his eyes, unable to hide the grin that stretched across his face. She nodded. “I thought you said it was impossible,” he breathed, leaning into her, their foreheads touching.

“I thought it was,” Dany whispered. “After Rhaego I thought…” she trailed off and Jon kissed her again, wanting to absorb all her sadness and heartache leaving only the good behind.

“How long have you known?” Jon asked, thumbs rubbing small circles on either side of her belly as he held her to him.

“Not long. I started to suspect, once we docked at White Harbor, that something was off. The closer we got to Winterfell, the more sure I became. But it wasn’t until Missandei suggested I visit Maester Wolken when we arrived that I knew for a certainty.”

“So that’s where you disappeared to this afternoon,” Jon murmured, his hands sliding lower to grip and knead her hips. _He_ had done this. She was carrying _his_ child. The one thing he thought he would never want in this world and yet, in this moment, Jon felt as if some strange, primal urge had been satisfied.

“It’s not the best timing,” Dany said quietly, her tone more serious. Jon looked up but his hands still slid up and down her thighs, his thoughts beginning to scatter. She had thought she was barren. That the dragons would be the only children she would ever have. And now she carried his child. _He_ had put that child there. _His_ seed took and was now growing. It filled him with an inexplicable pride and distinct sense of maleness. “All of this might not matter in a week’s time. We could all be dead.” Her words were bleak and there was no denying the truth in them but Jon noticed her breathing had increased, her chest rising and falling more rapidly, her pupils dilating, the amethyst slowly being taken over by black.

“Aye,” Jon breathed, unable to ignore the familiar stirring in his blood as it coursed through him. There was no way he could concentrate now on wights or thrones or Night Kings or crypts or rebellion’s of years past or southern queens with mercenary armies or Long Nights or swirling snowstorms or the fact that they were in the Winterfell library and not the privacy of their personal chambers. For the first time all night, Jon’s mind became blissfully blank. “But we’re not dead yet.”

With that, he crashed his lips to hers, kissing her with a passion he’d never had before, feeling her body respond immediately, sinking into him. After everything that had happened over the last day, finding out about the undead dragon, the destruction of Eastwatch and The Wall, the betrayal of Cersei Lannister, the truth about his heritage, everything, Jon suddenly didn’t care at all about any of it, didn’t care about anything, except the woman currently sitting in his lap, furiously tugging at hooks and buttons and laces to rid them of the layers that separated them.

In the end, they didn’t even undress completely, their need so urgent. Dany’s coat and boots and breeches fell to the floor to pile with his cloak and leathers. He kneaded her behind as she pulled at the laces of his trousers, their lips sloppily slipping over each other’s cheeks and necks and collarbones.

Once she freed him and grasped him in her hands, hips straddling his, ready to take him, Jon couldn’t help but quickly ask, “This is okay right?” his breaths harsh, eyes darting between her face and her belly, praying she would say _yes_. He didn’t want to stop now but also didn’t know a thing about women when they were with child, what was acceptable and what was advised against.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she huffed, scooting forward. _Thank the gods_. He gripped her hips to steady her movements and she slowly sank onto him, their mouths open and lips almost touching but not quite. Jon let out a low, shuddering groan, his eyes rolling back.

When she settled over him and he was completely sheathed inside her soft warmth, he opened his eyes and looked up at her. “I love you,” she whispered. Jon wanted to say it back to her again but all he was able to do was growl his approval before grasping the back of her neck so he could pull her mouth back down to his.

Dany’s tongue teased his and she placed her hands on his shoulders to balance herself as she began to grind her hips into him. Jon had wanted to take it slow. They probably should have taken it slow, he thought. But he could never get her fast enough, could never get enough of her. Desire and need clawed at him from the inside even as he planted his feet firmly on the library floor and thrust up into her, gripping her hips to bring her back down on him in a delicious rhythm that had them both panting and trying but failing to keep quiet. His body and mind were completely separated. Mind scattered somewhere, probably on the floor amongst their discarded winter layers. Body tangled up and lost in hers, taken over by wild feral instinct to cause and hear her little high pitched moans whenever he hit perfectly that spot inside her he knew made her toes curl.

His lips and teeth worshipped and devoured her neck while her nails dug into and tore at his tunic, then her hands slipped under to feel his bare skin and pull him closer... _closer_ . Jon could hear Dany’s breaths start to falter, felt her insides begin to quiver...just a little bit more, he knew. Desperately wanting to watch her come apart in his arms, he began rubbing the spot where their bodies joined, feeling himself inch closer as well. “ _Jon, … Oh Jon,_ ” she groaned. Dany’s head fell into his shoulder, her face nestling into his neck as her legs stiffened. “ _Come on Dany_ ,” he breathed in her ear, urging her on, and with that, Dany’s whole body tensed. She gripped him to her with unbelievable strength and she groaned into his neck as he felt her convulse around him. Hearing her was all it took for Jon to close his eyes, and with a few short thrusts later, he joined her in her release.

After he caught his breath, he pulled out of her carefully, as if suddenly remembering she was carrying his child. But if Dany noticed his silly precaution, she didn’t let on. She simply curled up in his lap, her head resting under his chin, enjoying hearing the steady beat of his heart as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“If we win this war, we’re going to be parents,” Dany whispered, hand resting over her belly once more.

“One more reason to make sure we win,” Jon told her, thinking about what the world would look like months from then, when she would hopefully be bringing their child into the world.

Dany sat up then and smiled at him, her eyes still slightly glazed from their lovemaking. She kissed his lips chastely before saying quietly, “Let’s go to bed.” They dressed silently and held hands as they walked to Jon’s bed chambers that they would be sharing, all the while Jon’s mind reeling again. _Father._ He was going to be a father. Once in bed, he pulled her to him, arm wrapping around her and hand resting protectively over her belly. He couldn’t not touch her. It was fascinating to think about. Of all the revelations he had received that day, this was by far the best. His only wish? That Ned could have been here to reassure him that everything would be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for those who asked, no, in my version, Bran is not joking. Jaime and Cersei are Aerys' children. I really liked the idea of the three major houses in GOT being connected in this way. And of course, couldn't help throwing in a little Jon/Dany sexy time.


End file.
